


i can't give you my soul (cuz we're never alone)

by gothfob



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Smut, andy and ashlee are only mentioned and talked about offscreen, break up fic, fob lyric references, gold star if u can, joe trohman is a Good Bro, my specialty, pete drunk dials patrick, set during folie era, technically, that scene is another reference to a different 1975 song can u guess which, theyre in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothfob/pseuds/gothfob
Summary: Patrick is pissed off. He never thought he’d be living in a post break up universe with Pete, but here he is. If you had told him he’d fall in love with Pete Wentz when he was a teenager, let alone date him, he’d think you were insane.When he was a teenager, he had a little crush on Pete. It was nothing to worry about, really. He thought it would go away. That his feelings would fade over time. He was very, very wrong.Or the one where Pete and Patrick break up and then have a heart to heart.





	i can't give you my soul (cuz we're never alone)

Patrick is pissed off. He never thought he’d be living in a post break up universe with Pete, but here he is. If you had told him he’d fall in love with Pete Wentz when he was a teenager, let alone date him, he’d think you were insane.

When he was a teenager, he had a little crush on Pete. It was nothing to worry about, really. He thought it would go away. That his feelings would fade over time. He was very, very wrong. 

Pete is one of those people where the more time you spend with him, the more charming you find him. The harder you fall. Patrick thinks he can be an annoying little shit, but somewhere down the line he started to find that endearing. Most of the time. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

But eventually, Patrick reached his breaking point. Usually, Pete is a very caring, loyal person. But he’s also overemotional, and he has unhealthy coping mechanisms.

So when Pete came onto the tour bus smelling like a woman’s perfume, Patrick decided he couldn’t do it anymore. He deserves better. He knows he does. So he got out all of his anger, bared all his pain for Pete to see. He cried and screamed and then, on the last day of tour, Patrick made his dramatic exit and got on the next plane to Chicago alone.

He didn’t want to hear Pete’s half-assed apology, nor did he want to hear a bullshit explanation. He’s been ignoring Pete’s voicemails and texts all week. 

But then, Patrick sees something on Twitter that makes his stomach knot in despair. A picture of Pete and Ashlee Simpson, tangled at the mouth outside of a club. The date underneath the photo is today’s.

Patrick feels a fresh wave of anger and sadness wash over him. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. But he’s brokenhearted. If Pete really loved him, how could he move on so fast? 

Patrick is incredibly confused. What is he supposed to do? Sit and wallow in his own despair? Confront Pete? He’d rather not sit in his apartment by himself and cry over Pete Wentz. He won’t be that pathetic.

He decides to call Joe and ask him if he wants to go out for drinks. Joe agrees, and Patrick meets him there an hour later. 

“You look so depressed I’m willing to take pity on you and buy your drinks for the night.” Joe says, though his face shows a lot of concern. 

“Thanks.” Patrick murmurs, avoiding Joe’s gaze. They slide into a booth across from each other with their drinks, and Patrick drinks half of his cocktail in a few quick gulps. 

“What’s wrong?” Joe finally dares to ask. He’s swishing his scotch around the glass like it’s wine. 

“I broke up with Pete right before tour ended.” Patrick bites out. Joe raises an eyebrow at him.

“I knew that part. Go on.” Joe coaxes. 

“I saw a picture of him kissing Ashlee Simpson today.” Patrick grits out. 

“Jesus Christ.” Joe groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in something akin to disgust. “I’m so sorry, Patrick. What the fuck. He’s such an asshole sometimes.” 

“ _Sometimes?_ ” Patrick echoes, grimacing. “More like 99% of the time.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Joe nods, looking angry on Patrick’s behalf. He’s a good friend. “I’m gonna have to talk to him about this. Fucking idiot.” Joe mumbles under his breath. 

“That’s not even the worst part.” Patrick says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m pretty sure he was cheating on me before. He came onto the bus smelling like perfume and I lost my fucking mind.” Patrick is tearing up now.

He wipes at his eyes and hopes Joe doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

Joe reaches across the table to rub at his shoulder in a soothing manner.

“I don’t blame you. You deserve better than being treated like an afterthought. I’m just really confused. Maybe this is a misunderstanding, ‘Trick. I know how much he loves you. He wouldn’t just throw that all away for some girl, would he? He’s probably hurting too.” Joe tries to reason. 

“I don’t care if he’s hurting, that’s no excuse, is it?” Patrick spits venomously, shaking his head. “I’m hurting a lot more than he is. He looks like he’s perfectly fine. Better than fine.” 

“You and I both know that appearances do not equal facts. If anything, he’s probably sleeping with other people _because_ he’s in pain and trying to get over you. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but he copes with break ups differently than we do.” Joe reminds him gently. 

“I don’t know what to do. I thought we were doing so well. I thought he loved me, but he just has a nasty habit of proving me wrong…” Patrick trails off, the tears finally falling down his cheeks. 

“He does love you. I know he does. He always will. But you don’t know what he’s going through or why he’s doing these things unless you talk to him.” Joe urges. Patrick slumps in his seat, feeling defeated.

“I hate that you’re right.” Patrick huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest petulantly. 

“I always am.” Joe chuckles. “Now, let me get you another drink and we’ll talk about something not Pete related. How’s that sound?” 

“Amazing.” Patrick sniffles, but he manages to give Joe a small smile. The world keeps turning, but the weight on his shoulders seems to get heavier.

xxx

Patrick is woken up in the middle of the night a few days later by his phone ringing. Patrick groans and peeks one eye open to look at his bedside clock. _3:30AM._ There’s only one person it could be.

Patrick considers shutting his phone off and going back to sleep, but his conscious stops him from doing so.

What if Pete really needs him? What if there’s an emergency? He’d feel so guilty if he wasn’t there when Pete needed him. Broken up or not, Patrick still cares about him. 

Patrick puts on his glasses and flicks on the lamp before grabbing his phone and hitting the accept button.

“Hello?” Patrick says, his voice thick with sleep. 

“‘Tricky.” Pete slurs down the line. He sounds drunk. But Patrick would guess he hasn’t been sleeping too well either.

Patrick holds his breath and waits for the bomb to drop. He waits for Pete to be angry with him. He waits for Pete to say he’s in love with someone else. It doesn’t happen. 

“I miss you.” Pete hiccups. His voice sounds desperate and forlorn. “Please help me.” Pete begs. He sounds so small and helpless, Patrick can’t resist the plea. 

“I miss you too.” Patrick admits. “What can I help you with? What’s wrong?” 

“Just...keep talking.” Pete says, his breathing becoming shallower and his voice straining. Patrick can hear the sheets rustle, is intimately familiar with the noise friction makes when Pete is getting himself off.

Pete bites off a whine in the back of his throat. Patrick stares at the wall, stunned. 

“You’re jerking off.” Patrick states, because it’s a fact and he doesn’t know what else to say. He licks his lips, thinking about Pete laying in bed with his hand down his pants. 

“ _Yes_. Sing for me. Please.” Pete hisses through gritted teeth. Patrick hums, getting lost in a memory of the last time he watched Pete touch himself.

He shakes his head quickly, trying to get a handle on the situation. A ball of white hot anger is gathering inside him, he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Patrick says, deathly quiet. Pete seems to pause in his ministrations at this, the only sign he’s still there his heavy breathing coming down the line.

“I break up with you, and then you call me in the middle of the night because you’re bored and you’re playing with yourself?” Patrick squeaks out, indignant. 

“Patrick.” Pete groans, sounding frustrated. It serves him fucking right. 

“No. You know what? All those dirty thoughts of me, they were never yours to keep. So go fuck yourself.” Patrick hangs up before Pete can reply. 

He lays his head on the pillow and looks up at the ceiling. His thoughts race with images of him and Pete, fucking, fighting, falling in love, quoting 80’s movies at one another. It hurts to think about. _But it only gets better when it hurts,_ Patrick thinks.

His dick is half-hard but he doesn’t dare touch it. He rolls over and eventually manages to fall into a restless sleep. 

xxx

Patrick tries to move on with his life for about a month. He goes through the motions. He hangs out with his other friends. He sees his family. He walks his dog. He goes grocery shopping. He goes to the gym. 

But he can’t seem to write a fucking song without Pete. How is he supposed to live his life without making music? It’s impossible.

It’s in his blood. Him and Pete are a team. They’re good at what they do. They’re still in a band together, for all intents and purposes. They might be taking a break, but they still have a commitment to fulfill. To Joe and Andy. To the label. To the fans. To themselves. 

Patrick cannot avoid Pete for the rest of his life, unless he wants to quit the band and therefore ruin a lot of other people’s lives. Also, he can’t seem to create anything without Pete. And that just won’t fucking do. 

Patrick is in the middle of walking Penny through the park, and, like Pete Wentz is capable of honing in on your location when you’re thinking about him, he appears in front of Patrick.

Like he can fucking read minds or something. He’s always had a weird telepathic thing with Patrick, it wouldn’t surprise him if he _could_ read his mind. 

Pete walks up to him with his shoulders slumped and his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. His hair is greasy and falling in his eyes. He looks defeated. Patrick feels much the same. 

“What are you doing here?” Patrick asks, before he can stop himself. He thought Pete was still in LA sucking face with Ashlee. That mental image still makes it feel like he’s being stabbed in the chest. 

“I came to talk to you. I asked Andy where you’d be.” Pete says simply, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Traitor.” Patrick mumbles angrily. Pete rolls his eyes and suppresses a smile. 

“Can we go somewhere more private?” Pete asks. Patrick nods, a little reluctant. They walk back to Patrick’s apartment in silence.

Patrick unlocks the door and lets Penny off her leash. She goes running, as if she can sense the tension in the air. It feels like it’s choking Patrick. 

“Okay. Let me talk, and just listen. You’ve done a lot of the talking. It’s my turn.” Pete says, sitting on the couch. Patrick complies, sitting on the opposite side. 

“When I called you the other night, I was really drunk. I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, it felt like. All I knew was that I was horny and I missed you. And I’m sorry for doing that to you. It was wrong. I should’ve just come here to talk to you in person sooner.” Pete apologizes. Patrick is having a hard time believing this is real life.

“I’m dreaming, right? Pinch me.” Patrick says. Pete doesn’t look amused. 

“No. This is real.” Pete tsks. 

“Okay. Go on. Give me the bullshit explanation about the perfume and Ashlee Simpson.” Patrick retorts. 

“There is no bullshit explanation. I’m just going to tell you the truth. Okay?” Pete says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks mad. _Good_ , Patrick thinks vindictively. He should be for once. Patrick nods, and gestures for Pete to keep talking. 

“The reason I smelled like perfume that day on the bus is because I was hanging out with Vicky.” Pete says, and pauses to watch Patrick’s reaction. Patrick knows when Pete is lying. His mouth twitches. It’s an easy tell to spot. Pete isn’t lying right now. 

“Oh.” Patrick says, feeling hollow inside. He had fucked this up too. But it takes two to tango. “I admit that I should have let you explain yourself. But I’m very insecure about myself and our relationship as a whole, and I just assumed you were cheating on me. But me breaking up with you doesn’t cancel out you _fucking_ Ashlee Simpson of all goddamn people!” Patrick yells. 

“I know.” Pete winces. 

“You know? Then why the fuck are you doing it? Do you know how much it hurts me to see photos of you kissing her? Photos of her giving you a lap dance in the middle of a club? There is nothing you could say to make that okay.” Patrick bellows. He can feel the tears gathering in his eyes again. Fucking hell. 

“You’re right. I’m so sorry, Patrick. But I was hurting too. I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought I could numb the pain by sleeping with someone else. You wouldn’t hear me out. I was convinced you were going to quit the band and never talk to me again.” Pete sighs, frowning. 

“Well if you keep this shit up I just might.” Patrick grumbles half-heartedly. He’s run out of steam, his anger dissipating. 

“Please don’t.” Pete crumples, falling to his knees in front of Patrick and crying. “I love you so much. I promise. I won’t talk to her ever again if that will make you feel better. I never wanted to hurt you. I just missed you. You’re my fucking sunshine machine.” 

Patrick is still upset, but he will never stop loving Pete. This man who is charming, poetic, and romantic. This man who is his. 

“Don’t just quote your own lyrics at me and turn it into a line.” Patrick huffs, smiling through his tears. 

“But it’s true. I really mean it.” Pete says, sincerely. He stands up and falls into Patrick’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“I love you too. But please never scare me like that ever again. It was humiliating, and frankly heartbreaking.” Patrick says, his tone serious. 

“I know. I’m really sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” Pete says, wiping the tears from Patrick’s face. 

“Anything?” Patrick asks, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. 

“Whatever you want.” Pete grins at him wolfishly, his sharp canines glinting in the light. 

“That’s music to my ears.” Patrick beams. “How about you start with getting naked and following me into my bedroom.” Patrick commands. 

Pete nods vigorously, getting out of Patrick’s lap and racing towards his bedroom. Patrick laughs and follows at a slightly more acceptable pace.

Pete leaves a trail of his clothes behind him, and by the time Patrick reaches his bedroom Pete is laying in his bed naked, with his arms crossed behind his head. Totally nonchalant and relaxed, as if nothing even happened. Patrick envies his ability to do that. 

Patrick knees onto the edge of the bed and unzips his jeans. Pete watches tentatively, his hot whiskey eyes practically glowing.

Patrick shucks off his pants and boxers, and then moves on to shrugging off his cardigan and taking off his hat. Lastly, he pulls his t-shirt up over his head and then they’re both naked and staring at each other very intensely. 

Patrick wants to savor this moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to do this again. Kissing Pete again feels like coming home. He feels safe. Loved.

But there’s a niggling little voice in the back of his head, and it’s ruining his life. Patrick pulls back from the kiss, panting, and looks Pete in the eyes.

“I keep thinking about you having sex with her. And how much prettier she is than me. She’s a woman. How could you ever want me after being with someone like her?” Patrick asks, his voice timid. 

“Patrick,” Pete frowns. “Listen to me. Sex appeal is all she had going for her. I am in love with _you._ Your voice and your mind and your body. All of you. I want you by my side every day for the rest of my life.” 

Patrick feels like crying again, but in a good way this time. 

“That’s really good to hear.” Patrick laughs, sounding choked up. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s you and me against the world.” Patrick smiles, and then he kisses Pete once more. 

Patrick feels like the luckiest man in the world, drinking in the sight of Pete below him. Pete is all tawny skin and golden eyes. Jet dark hair falling in his eyes, and his ink gleaming with sweat. The bartskull still remains the most hideous tattoo ever in Patrick’s opinion, but Pete somehow manages to make it look sexy.

Patrick has always thought Pete was way out of his league, but maybe they’re just two halves of the same whole. Light and dark coming together. A perfect balance. United in love and in life. 

Patrick is promptly dragged out of his thoughts by Pete’s hand wrapping around his dick and stroking him. 

“Oh.” Patrick gasps, inhaling sharply. Pete gives him a quicksilver grin and speeds up his hand. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and moves his hips into Pete’s fist. Patrick bites his bottom lip and forces himself to interject.

“You’re gonna have to stop doing that, otherwise this will be over embarrassingly fast.” Patrick gets out between gritted teeth. Pete chuckles into his neck, low and dirty. Pete bites his earlobe and trails his biting kisses down Patrick’s neck, but obeys and lets go of his cock. 

“Wouldn’t want that. Lube?” Pete asks, raising his eyebrows. Patrick smiles, and reaches into the top drawer of the nightstand to find the lube and a condom. 

He throws them both on the bed and then crawls down Pete’s body until he’s laying between his legs. Patrick bites the inside of Pete’s thigh, and Pete’s grunt in response makes Patrick shiver. 

Patrick spreads Pete’s cheeks until he’s looking at Pete’s hole. Puckered and twitching with excitement. Patrick licks at Pete’s tailbone, teasing as he trails his tongue down into the crease of Pete’s ass and around his rim.

Pete moans, trying to push back against Patrick’s face. Patrick holds him down by his hips and pushes his tongue inside of Pete. 

Pete whimpers and puts his hands in Patrick’s hair. He doesn’t pull, his grip stays gentle. It makes Patrick smile against his skin, digging deeper for that earthy, musky taste. 

“Please,” Pete begs. “Fuck me, Trick.” 

“Mmm.” Patrick hums, tilting his head and looking up at Pete from his naval, considering. “Only because you said please.” Patrick smiles.

Before Patrick even grabs the lube, he decides to torture Pete a little more. He deserves it, Patrick thinks. Besides, he loves it.

Patrick sucks a mark into Pete’s hipbone before he drags his mouth down to the base of Pete’s dick. He licks a stripe from the bottom to the tip, and then he sucks the head of Pete’s cock into his mouth and hollows his cheeks as hard as he can. 

Pete howls with it, throwing his head back in pleasure. Patrick pulls off with a pop, his mouth red and swollen. Pete looks down at him and glares, but his smile tells a different story.

“You’re evil. You might have a cherubic angel face, but it is _so_ misleading.” Pete says, his tone playful. Patrick shrugs and doesn’t dictate that statement with a response. He opens the lube, squirting it into his palm and warming it up with his fingers. 

Patrick circles a finger around Pete’s hole, delighting in the way Pete squirms. He’s greedy for it. He slides one digit inside of Pete, achingly slow. Pete’s walls hold his finger tightly, warm and soft.

By the time Patrick adds a second finger, Pete is riding his hand, making the most delicious sounds. 

“Patrick,” Pete whines. You know it’s serious when Pete doesn’t use one of his ridiculous nicknames. “I’m not getting any younger.” 

Patrick snorts, but he adds a third finger and twists his wrist. Pete’s back arches, his mouth open in a silent scream. 

“We don’t fight fair.” Patrick says the words into Pete’s golden thigh. Pete smacks him on the shoulder, horrified.

“I’m the only one allowed to quote my own lyrics!” Pete shrieks. 

“This band is not a dictatorship. It’s a democracy. And you can’t stop me.” Patrick smirks, pumping his fingers in and out of Pete faster.

Pete melts under his touch, and then Patrick decides he can’t wait any longer. Patrick gently removes his fingers so he can pull open the condom with his teeth and slide it down his dick. He slicks himself up with the excess lube and crawls up Pete’s body until they’re face to face.

Patrick places a kiss on Pete’s nose and grabs the base of his cock to position himself against Pete’s entrance. 

“Now _this_ is romance.” Pete says with a Cheshire cat grin. Patrick raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow and pushes forward, until he sinks into Pete one inch at a time.

Patrick tries to hold himself very still once he’s in to the hilt, his hips flush with Pete’s anatomically perfect ass. He might be a commanding asshole, but he’s considerate enough to not cause Pete pain. 

Patrick bites down hard on his lower lip as he starts to move, trying to use his self-restraint. Pete buries one hand in Patrick’s hair and drags the other hand down his back, leaving a stinging line of scratch marks.

The feeling makes Patrick flinch, jerking into Pete harshly. Pete moans, throwing his head back and exposing his golden throat. Patrick bites at his pulse point, sucks until he leaves a bruise. 

“More.” Pete whimpers. Patrick can’t stop himself from obeying. He picks up the pace of his thrusts, pistoning in and out of Pete. 

“You’re such a good boy.” Patrick says, because he knows Pete Wentz has a praise kink a mile long. Pete groans, his eyes rolling back in his head when Patrick hits the little bundle of nerves inside him. 

“God, your hips are magical. Don’t stop, _fuck!_ ” Pete shouts. Patrick smirks, hammering away at Pete’s prostate at a relentless speed. He can feel the sweat dripping down his temple, collecting in the dip of his lower back. 

Patrick is getting close, he can feel his balls drawing up tight to his body. But he’s determined to make Pete come first. To make him come hard. 

Patrick reaches down between their bellies to wrap his hand around Pete’s dick and jerk him off in time with the crashing of their hips. 

“Come for me, baby. Let me see you make a mess.” Patrick coaxes, his voice low and gravelly with desire. It does the trick.

Pete’s body locks up, his stomach clenching and his back arching obscenely. He comes impaled on Patrick’s dick, his eyelashes fluttering with Patrick’s name on his lips. His dick twitches between them, covering their tummies and chests in pearlescent streaks. 

“You’re fucking incredible.” Pete murmurs, the second he is capable of speech again. His eyes are wide and dark, a smile on his face. Patrick smiles back and starts to rut his hips into Pete again. “That’s right. I’m all yours. You can let go.” Pete goads him. 

Pete is wet and loose with post-orgasmic bliss. His hole takes Patrick easily, inviting him in and pulling him deeper. Patrick buries himself all the way inside Pete and grinds his hips in circles.

Pete clenches up tight around him suddenly, and Patrick growls from deep within his chest. He comes, his dick twitching and filling up the condom in thick spurts. He keeps rutting into Pete as if he can make it go on forever. 

Once he’s through the aftershocks, he manages to pull out and tie off the condom to throw into the garbage by the side of the bed. 

Patrick rolls over until he can look at Pete.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Patrick admits. Pete beams at him and wraps himself around Patrick like an octopus. 

“It’s mutual. I’m really sorry. I’ll give you sexual favors for eternity to make it up to you, I promise.” Pete says, his eyes earnest. Patrick laughs, and wraps his arms around Pete and tangles their legs together. 

“Let me enjoy my afterglow and take a nap. Maybe after that you can make me dinner and I’ll officially accept your apology.” Patrick teases.

Pete kisses his cheek and tucks his face into his neck.

“It’s a deal.”

Patrick falls asleep with Pete’s comforting smell and warmth surrounding him. He dreams of hot whiskey eyes and a toothy smile. He wakes up to just that. Life is as it should be. 

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh. here is this. i wrote it based off the song somebody else by the 1975. the title is a lyric from the song. i intended for this to be longer and more angsty originally, but. this is what my brain came up with. its short and angsty but also sweet and quickly resolved. i hope u enjoy it anyways. unbetaed and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @gothfob :)


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